


Selfish and Safe

by crusdrabbles



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, post kh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 15:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crusdrabbles/pseuds/crusdrabbles
Summary: "I wish he was back in the pod." Riku thinks, and hates himself for it.





	Selfish and Safe

It comes unbidden to his mind in the form of a cold sweat at three in the morning. It is a dark, cruel, utterly selfish thought that makes his skin crawl and sends him lurching from the cot. It is a nightmare that follows him back to realm of waking, its claws digging into to all his weakest, softest parts and devouring his already grieving heart.

 _I wish he was back in the pod_.

Riku rights himself with the punishing slap of cold water on his face, but now that he has given the thought form it refuses to leave his mind. It reverberates in his skull, demanding his attention no matter how hard he tries to deny it a stage.

 _I wish he was back in the pod._ _I wish he was back in the pod. I wish he was back in the pod._

It’s funny, Riku considers bitterly, that Sora’s absence has him thinking fondly upon one of the most difficult years he has faced. But right now, in the cramped washroom of the gummi ship - surrounded by the crushing emptiness of space and _loss_ \- that soft white room prods his memory with promises of safety and comfort.

Safety. That’s the root of it really; Sora had been _safe_ in that frosted glass flower, suspended in his deep and dreamless slumber. He’d been safe from darkness and nightmares and pain. Riku could not touch him, but at least he could torture himself with sight of Sora’s sleeping face every day. At least Riku had been able to talk to him, though Sora could not hear or reply. Riku’s guilt could batter him aloud against the faceted walls of that pod and his dearest friend would be none the wiser; no obligations to forgive or to comfort - just Sora and silence and the static of repairing memories.

Without his permission Riku’s mind begins to rationalize his desires. It hadn’t been that bad, surely - for Sora at least. Of course his memories had been plucked from his mind, but they had all been put back. He had woken up one year older, a foot taller and an octave deeper - but he didn’t suffer the minor aches and pains of puberty like Riku had. If anyone had truly suffered it was his nobody and replica, who faced an existence haunted by Riku’s blade.

Maybe Riku’s selfishness had been the only reason for waking Sora up. Kairi had been blissfully unaware of what she should be missing. Sora had been tucked away, warm and undisturbed in his little locked box. Riku had… gotten what he deserved. Maybe Sora could have slept through the entire war if they had just let him; if the powers that be hadn’t demanded a savior and a pawn. If Riku could have made it through the night without dreams of holding his hand.

Riku's awarness re-orients to the sensation of his hands trying to leave some impression of his turmoil against the rim of the sink.

It always came back to Riku’s selfishness, in the end. It was Riku who plunged their world into darkness and taunted Sora into giving up his heart. It was Riku who tore scared children with Sora’s face apart and led a chase across worlds because he could not stand the grace of Sora’s forgiveness. It was Riku who threw himself into the demon tide, hoping deep down that it would inspire in Sora the strength to save him, too. It was Riku who, in the one selfless act of his entire life, let Sora go after Kairi alone. And now, once again, it was Riku who would stop at nothing to get him back.

He hadn’t even let Kairi come along.

Riku releases the sink from his iron grip and slides to the floor. He’s too tall, too bulky, to wedge himself between it and the wet bath like he wants to. He imagines himself smaller, and wonders if Sora ever wedged himself in the odd angles of his ship to hide from the glare of his responsibilities. He wonders if Sora is hidden somewhere now; lost in the darkness.

Riku curses his wandering mind. It always drifts to Sora. As if he’s functioning on autopilot, he finds himself staring at Naminé’s name on the screen of his gummiphone, realizing too late he’s just called her at four AM. He opens his mouth to apologize when she picks up on the third ring, but he stops short when greeted by her soft, tired smile.

Tired, but not as though he’d just woken her from a restful sleep.

“Hello, Riku.” She says, and Riku nods and hangs his head. “I thought you might be entertaining the what-ifs too…”

Riku loves Kairi, he does; but there are moments when her brashness and generosity look so much like Sora’s that it is all Riku can do to not break down at the sight. Naminé, though, is like him: quiet, contemplative, and selfish. She might not describe herself as harshly as he did his own tendencies, but he feels inclined she would agree. She was so lonely that she rewrote their memories as a fight for her hand, but so noble that she wrote herself back out of all of them. Gone from his mind were the false memories of a childhood shared; now, there is only the time they spent in tense quiet, listening to Real-Ansem’s half-mad rambling while they put Sora back together.

“Never thought I’d think of that year as the good old days.” Riku admits to her, and she inclines her head.

“Back then, I always wished I could get to know him for real.” Naminé replies, and the camera jitters as she places it somewhere in her sights; settling in for the conversation. “When I woke up, I thought there might be time, but…” She trails off, purses her lips and shakes her head. Riku allows her a moment to sort out her thoughts, wondering if they would align with his own.

“I can’t help but wonder if he’s out there, scared and alone, drifting somewhere in the dark.” She continues after a moment. Unlike everyone else, Naminé doesn’t spare him the darker musings of Sora’s fate. She too had watched him sleep in that glass flower; she too had sweetly talked Roxas and Xion into re-entering Sora’s heart. “I sometimes wonder…”

Riku exhales the breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“What if we had him again.” He completes her thought with his own, and she gives him that sad, knowing smile that is engraved on his heart. He had missed her. He had missed their shared, quiet misery.

“It was a half-life, if that. But at least we knew where he was.” Naminé sighs. Riku watches her hands reach for paper and pencils; Riku’s own twists anxiously at locks of his hair. “You always took such good care of us.”

At this Riku laughs, low and breathless.

“I was keeping you prisoner.” He responds, and ignores the shake of her head. “I was keeping you both prisoner, and now I’m sitting here wishing I hadn’t given up the keys.”

“You were a prisoner, too.” She reminds him; gentle, but steadfast. For all her shyness, Naminé’s resolve was built like a boulder in the sea. Battered endlessly, but unyielding against even the largest waves.

“A prisoner of my own design.” Riku scoffs, and Naminé ponders it before giving him a thoughtful nod. This is why he likes Naminé. Sora and Kairi would argue against his self-flagellation, and he’d only want to whip himself harder in return. Naminé would let him have the softer blows, the ones that held truth. So Riku allows himself some non-self-inflicted misery, “And I guess… Of Ansem’s too.”

Naminé’s nod is firm, unlike her polite concession nod before. Riku watches her pencils glide across the paper, avoiding the image taking shape in favor of watching the shapes of her hands. Her drawings had always been too… _intimate_ for Riku to look at directly. He would catch glances from the corners of his eyes and a peek from under the blindfold, but he could never observe them head on. It was like staring into Sora’s heart; it felt like an invasion of his privacy - a feeling, Naminé reminded him, that she felt all the time. Now it was different; her drawings were her own, her connection to Sora…

“...Is it gone?” He asks her, hesitant and afraid. Her brow furrows beneath her bangs. If she told him yes, then what would they do. Should Riku give up; sob into the unforgiving vastness of space and return to Kairi empty handed. If she said no, then were her pencils haunted by visions of Sora lost and alone.

“I don’t know.” She answers him finally, uncomfortably, and Riku cannot tell if he feels relief or frustration. “When he is near it’s easy to feel him, but when he is far…”

“I understand.” Riku hums, schooling his tone into something neutral. “I’m sorry, I put you on the spot.”

“You want to find him.” She forgives his intrusion easily. She was surely used to all the avenues he would pursue in order to return to Sora’s side. “Sometimes inspiration comes to me, and I like to think it’s him. But I believe it’s just wishful thinking; in my drawings he is always happy, traveling the worlds without a care.”

Riku understands her implication; Naminé believes if Sora was reaching out, the images would be desperate and pained. It breaks his heart; he’s certain it breaks hers too.

Riku rubs wetness from his eyes, feeling the ache of his body creeping in. He should go back to sleep, but selfish dreams await him - dreams he would rather not feed.

“So how is… being alive?” He asks, awkward and uncoordinated. Naminé laughs, reserved but bright.

“It’s a bit much, really.” She replies with a smile. “I cried this week, it was so strange. I always thought tears looked beautiful - yours were so peaceful - but it just made my head hurt.” When she looks up at the screen to see Riku’s expression of growing horror, Naminé laughs again.

“Naminé…” He tries, and she shakes her head.

“I cried over a movie. We’ve started going to the outdoor theater.” She clarifies. “I think it took me by surprise. The thought that humans would create art that makes them sad never crossed my mind.” She muses, content with her exploration. Riku hums, his protective urge not quite assuaged.

“You should tell Lea to take you all to a funny movie next time.” He instructs to the tune of her tinkling laugh. Truthfully, he’s not sure Lea would understand her sense of humour, but Xion might.

“I think I’m okay with sad movies.” She says, turning downward again, smile still on her face, her gaze still catching his. “I think I want to experience all emotions, even the bad ones.”

Riku fights an embarrassed flush at being so easily seen through. He takes pride in his hard earned emotional restraint; that it was so obvious he’d changed the subject to avoid moping more sends that pride skittering back into the hunch of his shoulders. He was foolish to try and fool Naminé, really. He sometimes wondered if she didn’t hold a piece of himself as well.

“Caught me.” He admits, and his shoulders slump in defeat. He analyzes the too-cheery colors of the gummi ship ceiling rather than face her non-judgement. “I don’t want to feel, or sleep, or...anything. Part of me wishes I could put my heart on a shelf and just do what needs to be done.”

“It’d be easier,” Naminé offers sagely, “but then you wouldn’t understand why you are doing it.”

“And why is that?” Riku asks her, because he does not know anymore. Is it love or selfishness, light or darkness, that drives him to chase Sora until the worlds shatter to oblivion. What whispers in his ear the thought of delivering Sora back to the pod; to just a little more dreamless, peaceful sleep.

Naminé clears her throat, drawing Riku's attention back to her. He looks quickly away, however, when the screen shows a sketchbook page instead of her face. He can never face them head on.

“Riku…” She urges, pale blue eyes pleading over the metal spiral. Riku steels himself with a shuddering breath, and returns his gaze to the page.

It shows Sora, floating not in the sterile white planes of the flower, but in the faceted pink light of a heart. Riku observes it wholly and fully for a moment - his breath stopped and his heart skipping a beat - before casting his gaze down quickly.

“You don’t want to put him back in that white room.” Naminé tells him gently, while Riku fights the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “You just want him to be somewhere safe. That’s okay.”

Riku doesn’t look up a several minutes, but he can imagine Naminé smiling sweetly and sadly on the other end of the line. He breathes hard through his nose, fighting to regain his composure before he faces her again. When he does, it’s to that smile; endlessly understanding of all his selfishness and love.

“Thank you, Naminé.” He whispers, and she nods.

“If you come visit, I can give it to you.” She tells him and flips her book open to the next page. “We could all watch a movie, a funny one.”

“...I would like that.” Riku replies.

“Good.” Naminé says, and covers a yawn politely with her hand. “We should both get some sleep, I think the sun is coming up soon.” Riku nods along.

“I’ll see you soon?” Naminé asks, and Riku smiles for the first time in several days.

“I’ll see you soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> i like to write riku moping in front of girls and i dont proofread


End file.
